Inside the Glamorous World of Religion Blogging

Sometimes people ask me, “How did you become a blogger for Patheos?” (Patheos whose birthday we are celebrating in this post – Happy 5th Birthday, Patheos!) Allow me to confirm your suspicions by quoting you the letter* I received from our Catholic Channel editor asking me to join on this spring:

February, 2014

Dear Jennifer,

As you know, blogging about the Catholic faith is a sure path to fame and fortune. We who write for Patheos are filthy rich — pardon me, it’s chilly, I need to grab my other mink coat . . . .

. . . As I was saying, we have so, so much money, and so much fame. Small children stop us on the street and beg for our autographs. Just last week some prince vacationing in Monaco reached to touch the hem of my silk gown as I was stepping out of my limo at the diamond shop.

But what we don’t have is glamor. I know “Monaco” and “limo” make it sound glamorous, but as you well know, fame and fortune don’t turn a bunch of bleary-eyed desk-potatoes into Grace Kelly overnight.

That’s why we need you.

Would you please consider blogging for the Patheos Catholic Channel? We are certain that if we all stand next to you in the group photo, the rest of us will, by comparison, seem wildly glamorous.

Thank you so much for your consideration,

Elizabeth Scalia

If you doubt my ability to do this, take a look at my Happy Birthday Patheos video, in which I share my favorite part about being a Patheos Blogger:

The Great Ironing Board Deception

Now that you have viewed the video, you are thinking to yourself, “She irons things!” And while this is not strictly false, those who know me in person know that one cannot maintain an unglamorous facade if one is too well kempt.

So here’s a making-of-the-video look inside the storyboard process:

Beg Fr. E. to let #4 have her First Holy Communion at Friday daily Mass. We call him Fr. E for a reason**, so he says yes.

Manically tap out a deadline while the girls are at co-op. Race to get dressed at the last minute.

Observe there are way too many wrinkles in the linen skirt even for linen. Even for unglamorous linen.

Quick grab the iron and ironing board, and reduce the number of wrinkles to an amount that matches the usual lack-of-glamor persona certain of us cultivate so effortlessly.

Fail to put the ironing board away.

Come home, check e-mail, realize you completely forgot to participate in the Patheos 5th Birthday fun-a-thon. Shoot a video at the very last minute. Decide that cleaning is futile. Determine that the ironing board is all part of the “meet the blogger” look we’re going for.

Fabricate some line about how people think you, the Catholic blogger, spend some portion of your life ironing.

I’m not really sure what people think I do. I’m pretty sure they think I do nothing. Possibly that I spend long hours strewing debris around my yard. But only my friend Mark H. thinks I’m famous. I’m totally riding that for all it’s worth.